The Bridge After Meryon Bridge of Be-ing, all arches mirrrored upon The river running – Heraclitean ; Looming above… turret trumpeting, All Barnonial excess, pure 19th century. And aligned in sheer proximity the great monolith Of glass and concrete, its emphasis Presenting a sheer 20th century existentialism. Seen from the quays, it’s pure Baudelaire! The … Read more
Irish Rail Dublin, that old whore, with her piss -stained pavements Abruptly transforms into a woman of a certain station. Such are the, at once, brutal and subtle shifts where In an instant, Hell aligns in an altogether strict Congruence… Like when you climb aboard The final commuter train of the week on a Friday … Read more
Poems in the Manner of the Devil After Alexandar Ristović (1933-1994) If you can’t chew on oxtail, eat knuckles instead. The bounty of bedlam, Let these crumbs be your Thanksgiving, Or Last Suppers. Imitation is always the greatest form of flattery. See the world now through the light of wine. Do you have confidence in … Read more
Spring For Lois P. Jones I The gentle discord of rainfall, its alternating static dance are Reeds of air in suspension before the corona of sensation. A droplet splashes and trickles along your neck, its joyous grief is welcomed by you with a shudder. The courage of the leaf passes beneath the banks of … Read more
I’ve never needed a reason to write a song. There have never been any conscious considerations of failure or success during the process. If anything, I can say that what I discover through writing is that there are endless landscapes of discovery. This feeling has not changed in the eleven years I’ve been writing and … Read more